Broken Doll
by LeDiz
Summary: I found this broken doll a few years ago, or maybe it found me Just a little metaphorical, introspective talk from Yami about his broken doll that he found


I wave at thee for bothering, and I hope you like. I was drawing last night, and my oh-so-original tendancies came out in this picture, which spawned a story. Later!

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DISCLAIMER: _And another bad joke- A skeleton walks into a bar and says "give me a beer, then give me a mop". And so not funny, are they both!_

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A few years ago, I found this broken doll.

Or at least, I think I found it. Maybe it found me. I'm not really sure, and I never actually bothered to ask. For one thing, I hardly think the doll would answer, and even if it could… I'm not sure it knows either. All I know is that one day I didn't have it, and then the next, I did.

It's not a particularly amazing doll. I think it's beautiful, or… it could be beautiful… but it's broken. A lot of people tell me it's strange looking, and they're probably right. The doll is fairly large… it's about the size of a ten-year-old boy, but I think it's meant to be older. It's got white material for its skin, the type of material you want to just pat forever because it's so soft. But its chest and legs are blue leather. Strange, I know, but it's not so bad. It has dark red spikes for hair, except these thin lightning bolts that hang around its face. I think they're meant to be hair, too. It has very big, bright purple buttons for eyes, pink spots on its cheeks and a terrible bright white smile.

The only thing I don't like about my doll is that smile. And I can't get it off; the stitching is too tight. I think there's a nicer one below it, but again, I can't get the bigger smile off.

When I found it, I took it straight up to my room. A lot of people told me I was weird, and that I shouldn't keep the doll, but I wouldn't listen. I picked it up and didn't let go until I had it on the window seat by my bed, looking out at the dunes. I decided right then and there that I would always keep my doll, and I would try and fix it.

Like I said, my doll is broken. It has two big holes in its leather. One on its stomach, and one over its chest. There's also one in the middle of the leg, but that was patched up when I got it, covered in a square of black leather and tied with a buckle. The seams of my doll are coming apart. And there are two long, thin holes on its face, running from its eyes, under the pink spots, right down to the bottom of its head.

Those were the first things I tried to fix. I re-stitched the spots, putting them on tighter, and the holes disappeared for a little while. But every so often, they come apart again and the spots slip down.

A friend of mine, one that hangs around me a lot, came over once. I asked her to fix the hole in my little doll's chest. She put a big pink heart made of felt over the hole, and sewed it in tight. The patch stayed for months, but after a year or so… it came loose. And it won't stay on for longer than a day or two, now.

And then I found this big yellow piece of vinyl. It was bright, and shining, in the shape of a triangle. I stuck it over the whole on its stomach, and it stayed. For the next few months, the holes would stay fixed. I put on the cheek spots again, and they didn't come off. The holes beneath them sewed up quietly. I glued the heart in place, and it didn't fall off. I tried sewing the arms and legs back on, and they didn't come loose.

Everybody who comes by my room loves my doll. A few people want it all to themselves, and a couple have tried to steal it. But most just tell me I need to get rid of it. They say that it's wonderful and special, and they would love to own it themselves, but they don't think I should have it. They seem to think I'm not safe with it. Or maybe it's that they don't think it's not safe with me.

I don't understand. Wasn't I the one that fixed it? Didn't I put it back together? How could it not be safe with me?

But sometimes I think they're right. After all, when I'm in any kind of bad mood, I turn to my doll to make me feel better. I hit it, sometimes. I hit it and try to make the pain go away. But it doesn't work. I just feel worse than I started. Other times I sit down and try and fix it some more, but that just makes me disappointed. Both in myself for not being able to fix it, and in it for not staying together.

But sometimes I just hold it. I sit down on my bed like a little kid with a teddy bear and just hold it close. I rub its back and tell it everything is going to be okay, and I start to believe it myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, and childish, but when I hold my doll like that, everything stops being such a problem.

But that isn't the only strange thing about my doll.

Whenever I leave the room, I make sure it's sitting on my window seat, head propped against the window and staring out. Everything else can be a mess, but I make sure it's in its place. I do the same when I come in again. Of course, it's always where I left it. Everyone knows you do not touch my doll unless I say you can. No one's stupid enough to try and take it while I'm not here. Not anymore. Not after the last time.

But every so often, I'll come back in and something will be different. Sometimes the room will be cleaner, or brighter. You'd think that just meant someone had come in and cleaned, but I know no one goes into my room. Not without my say so.

It's not that I think my doll moves around, or even does anything. That would be insane.

But there's definitely something different since I found my doll.

I told you about my doll falling apart. And how I put that triangle on it, and everything started staying together. I seem to have forgotten to tell you the rest of that story.

After a while, I thought my doll was all fixed. So I stopped trying to put it back together.

That's not all. I started to ignore it. It was just another part of my room. True, I wouldn't let anyone take it, and if anyone commented on it, I would tell them it was mine, and no one should so much as touch it. But other than that, I didn't pay any attention to it. I was too busy. I was learning about myself, and the doll wasn't a part of me.

Eventually, though, things got too hard, and I got depressed. I turned to my doll to make me feel better, but that was when I noticed.

My doll had completely fallen apart. It was only staying together by a few bits of thread and spite. The only thing that remained in place was that awful smile. Even the eyes had become scratched and unpolished. My vinyl triangle was hanging across its lap, all but forgotten. The heart was hanging by its base.

I begged my friend to come sew it back on, and she tried, but it just fell down again. I tried gluing it, but it just ruined the material instead.

I think I've forgotten how to sew. I have an idea of how to fix my doll, but if I'm wrong, then it might just come out worse and so I don't want to try.

I ask all my friends to fix it, but they're either too scared to try, or they just can't make it stay together.

So now I have this broken doll, and all I know how to do is wrap it up in bandages and hold it tight, begging it to fix itself. The only thing that stays in place without my bandages is that terrible smile.

Can you fix my doll?

I'm too scared to try…


End file.
